


Tsokawan

by chaotic_citrus



Category: Echoes of the Fall - Adrian Tchaikovsky
Genre: A little bit of fluff, Angst, Bad Spelling & Grammar, Bisexual Asmander, Gay Tecuman, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Internalized Homophobia, Kissing, M/M, Not Really Character Death, SPOILERS FOR THE BEAR AND THE SERPENT, Universe Alteration, as a treat, could exist within canon, cries, edit: :) hehheheh, hesprec is an ally lol, no real ending, there's litterally one fic for this entire book series and now i'll add my gay one, wrote this before reading book 3
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-24
Updated: 2020-07-24
Packaged: 2021-03-04 07:07:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,685
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24965707
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chaotic_citrus/pseuds/chaotic_citrus
Summary: It's bad enough Asmander is having to watch the coming war between his two childhood best friends- it's even worse on of them is his lover(and it's not the girl).
Relationships: Asmander & Asman, Asmander & Shyri, Asmander/Tecuman
Comments: 5
Kudos: 2





	Tsokawan

**Author's Note:**

> Well I thought Asmander was gay for Tecuman and apparently I was wrong so I'm rewriting scenes out of burning queer fury... This mostly follows scenes from the book and mostly keeps the original dialogue with some additions

Asmander stared out across the dark water towards Tsokawan, trying to ignore his father’s brooding shape beside him. Shyri’s nails clicked as she paced back and forth along the deck as a hyena, making her boredom known. The repetitive sound had first grown hypnotic to Asmander, a distraction from his thoughts and amusing as she Stepped to and from her human shape and taunted the guards. Now, however, the tapping was annoying, though Asmander knew that was far less Shyri’s fault than it was his own bitterness and head refusing to slow its flood of anxieties.

‘This is normal, to keep guests waiting?’ The hyena girl Stepped, moving to his and Asman’s side.

‘Tecumet claims the Daybreak Throne’, Asmander didn’t glance to his father as he spoke, though he was pleased at the shortness in his voice, ‘So: we wait for her to show us how grand a Kasra she is.’

‘Or perhaps she is flustered by having her childhood lover board her?’

Asmander tensed, closing his fingers around the railing for something to distract himself with as he awaited some sharp snap from his father, though Asman never opened his mouth and his face was void of any answer when his son cast a cautious glance towards him.  _ He cannot think it,  _ He thought, then, much more painfully,  _ He knows it was never her. _ Asman was an observant man, shrewd and cunning, even now in his older years- if not more. If he hadn’t known of Asmander’s feelings for Tecuman since he was a kid he  _ surely  _ knew by now.

‘What foolishness is this?’ the Champion spoke finally. There had been a long silence and he knew Shyri would think she was correct, though he much preferred that over the truth. Sure enough, she gave a toothy grin of a hunter who had spotted weak prey.

‘When we were in the Stone People ruin, wasn’t it? You told me how good a Kasra your boy Tecuman would make, just the same for Tecumet. Didn’t you all grow up together, the three of you?’

Asmander’s chest ached at the memories, the three of them running through the castle halls and out through the courtyard. Their nicknames, Asa, Teca, and Te. They’ de felt like family then, and he’d never even imagined that would change. Death and war was a foreign concept to children. They were his best friends, not future rulers. Teca and Te. Either of them would make good Kasras, regardless of whichever was intended, and he had loved them both, he still loved them both-  _ just not in the same way.  _ He suddenly felt sick, both at the idea of having to face Tecumet as an enemy, and at himself. When he turned to Shyri he found her smile had faltered to the resting smirk her lips always seemed to keep.

‘These things are known, the Laughing Men talk too much, and nothing to the purpose.’ he said. His throat felt tight, threatening to stop the next words from coming out, ‘I am Tecuman’s Champion. Tecumet is my enemy.’

Shyri gave an undecipherable sigh and leaned back against the railing, looking into the sky then back to Asmander.

‘What about that other Champion, Angry Girl?’ she asked, for a second Asmander thought she meant Maniye, ‘She was one of your little Warband? ’

‘Izel? No.’ 

All at once it hit him that he may have to kill her before this was over. He and Tecuman had never liked her as kids, but there was a familiarity that came with growing up with someone, and she felt less like an enemy than the rest of Tecumet’s forces. Blood would be shed- the Champions’ blood would be shed. He’d have to kill her if he could, he’d have to kill any of Tecumets forces. He was Tecumans Champion. Perhaps only he and Izel could fight, save the blood of all else wrapped into the feud.

He knew his Kasra wouldn’t want war, nor Tecumet, but this was a battle of old men, priests, prophesies, and a throne for one with two heirs who somehow had little control over the coming events. Asmander wanted there to be some peaceful solution, all their ‘little Warband’ did, but the world cared little for that option. He wanted so badly to be able to go back to Tecuman and tell him it was ok, that there would be no war. He wanted to stop seeing the pain and stress in his face, or his tension when they spoke of Tecumet to him on the throne. He wanted the Kasra to fall asleep in his arms without fearing him waking shaking from nightmares again.

Shyri gave a snicker and Asmander glanced to her quizzically.

“I’m imagining the Warband,” she spoke, for once joking without some nasty sharpness. Asmander turned back to the shore, shaking his head with a smile, “A tiny little Asmander with royal twins, running havoc, watching clouds, setting fire as youths.’

He huffed a laugh and turned to Shyri to ask if setting fire was a regular Laughing Men activity but his eyes drew to Asman’s gaze instead. The man cast him a glare, disappointment, anger- these things were known, familiar-  _ disgust.  _ It was rarer, newer, and the worst. He knew he’d try to forget what he’d seen and what he knew, but this was bringing the subject far to close for comfort for either of them. It had been years since his father had risen a hand to him, not since he was a boy, but the cruel snaps and narrow glances were not ceasing as soon.

His stomach churned, he knew Shyri would probably care little if at all, the Laughing Men didn’t seem the type to be stiff when it came to relationships. Still, the thought terrified him. All it would take is some mention of something odd by Asman and the hyena girl would pester Asmander till he told her, unaware how her digging would be hurting him.  _ No _ ,  _ he wouldn’t risk Tecuman’s reputation, or his own…  _

Asmander looked across the water to calm himself only to find Tecumet’s forces lining the shore, Stone Kingdom soldiers and mercenaries from Atahlan that would get their pay from the bloodshed and war. He couldn’t help but feel they were like vultures circling a weak animal, or rather two beasts about to fight, waiting to prey on the loser’s corpse. It seemed Tecumet so recently felt to be one of his best friends, yet now he found her troops afront him.

‘Let me tell you what you don’t want to hear…’ Shyri didn’t finish the thought, trailing off.

‘I know,’ Asmander said, ‘They have more than we do. But we have walls. And we have the true Kasra.’

A Serpent priestess approached the boat, face lined in colorful designs of scales.

‘Asman of the Bluegreen Reach, Tecumet Kasra invites you into her presence.’

»»————- ————-««

Back when they were youths- or, younger youths- Asmander and Tecuman liked to joke about Asman- they still would if he wasn’t so often present.

‘I’m sure your father would talk to rocks if only they would give him an echo.’

‘These things are known,’ Asmander laughed, staring out at the sky from the bay window where they sat. He pulled the blanket up around the two of them and Tecuman leaned his head against Asmander’s shoulder, nuzzling into the warmth of his neck. Some little voice tried to hiss cruelties at Asmander, but he forced it to the back of his mind. It would be back later to tell him horrible things- to call him horrible things when he was alone or could not sleep, thinking of his prince- but with him, he could silence it . With Tecuman he was safe, with Tecuman he was whole and there was nothing wrong with that, if just for a moment. 

Tecuman shuffled closer and leaned up to capture his Champion’s lips. Asmander smiled into the kiss, pulling the boy prince close. My  _ prince,  _ Asmander thought. His tongue was at his lips and-

‘Prince Tecuman-’

The two jerked apart at the voice to find Asman standing in the doorway. 

‘-the priests wish to speak with you.’

Asmander was frozen, and his father’s face gave no expression. He felt he should have jumped away from so close to Tecuman but he hadn’t and it was too late now- it was too late even if he had. He felt too his face should be heating, that prickle over his ears and cheeks like when Tecuman whispered something kind do him as they passed in the hall, but he just felt cold, hollow.

‘Yes, in a moment.’ Tecuman nodded to Asman as if he wasn’t practically sitting in his son’s lap. The door closed and he was gone. The two glanced to each other. Asmander felt the prickle he thought would be in his face rising in his eyes and he found he was blinked rapidly. Tecuman cursed.

‘No, it’s alright, it’s alright.’ The prince pulled him into an embrace and pressed his lips to his forehead before rising, cursing briefly again, ‘It’s alright. I’m sorry I must go, I’ll return soon, I promise, Asa.’

Tecuman disappeared out the door, and Asmander was alone. Asman would never speak a word to him about it, but if those cruel thoughts that rose from the back of his mind had a voice it would have been Asmans when they spoke about relationships and would be the glint in his gaze that came with it- disappointment more than normal, and disgust. 

»»————- ————-««

Asmanders time with Tecumet was over and he moved back out to the deck. Shyri was silent at his side, more so than yet on their whole journey. Night had taken over the land, leaving only the small, flickering fires at Tsokawan in it’s dark throw. 

‘So, has she made you her rug?’ The hyena girl smirked. Asmander stared at her blankly and she rolled her eyes, sneering with more sharpness than normal, ‘Cut out your guts with her words, and made you into a thing to rest her feet on?’

‘I’m afraid I am still in possession of my guts.’ He said shortly.

‘I thought you and she had been renewing your old friendship,’ she spoke with a venomous edge that made Asmander bite his lip to keep himself from saying something cruel.

‘Tecumet used to be my friend, she is my enemy now.’ He said, hating how hard the words were to say, but Shyri didn’t know when to stop, like some beast who had tasted blood for the first time.

‘Enemy? I would have thought some relation would retain with a past lover.’

Asmander snapped, ‘What do the Plains know about such things, who never touch another human save to cut their throats?!’ He saw the hurt on Shyri’s face and felt a pang of short-lived guilt before she spoke again.

‘We know not to fool ourselves with too many stupid words,’ The girl spat, ‘I’m sorry you’re so hot over my bringing up your new Kasra _. _ ’

‘ _ Tecuman  _ is my Kasra!’

‘Perhaps  _ he  _ was your lover instead.’

Asmander felt like he had been thrown into the water below. His chest ached and his words caught in his throat for a moment before he realized she didn’t know, then returned as he realized that meant her words were supposed to be an insult. The anger left his body and he only felt cold and ill.

‘Leave your venom, Tecumet  _ was  _ my friend, that is all.’ He hissed out, quiet and low, the fire gone from him. Shyri looked like she had something to say, but a haunting sound was echoing across the water: a warning cry of the wolf. The estuary- Tecuman. Something was wrong. Asmander dove into the water, Stepping into the shape of a crocodile. He tore through the dark water with frantic lashes of his powerful tail. When he rose his head up to the surface he felt hardly closer. His stomach churned, then he swam faster. 

»»————- ————-««

Asmander peered out the bay window of Tecuman’s room, body clenched. He’d try to calm himself only to find his body had tensed again and soon gave up.

He’d always thought it would be Tecumet.

He’d always seen Tecuman as safe with him there to protect him. He’d imagined if things did fall to chaos without agreement it would be Tecumet who would have to-- he couldn’t bring himself to think the word, but its meaning hung heavy, hollow in his chest. It wasn’t like Tecumet’s passing would have been any better, but  _ this  _ was surprising somehow, and he suddenly realized how foolish he had been thinking the Kasra would be safe- even with him there.

He didn’t even know  _ if  _ Tecuman was dead. The Champion was piecing together what he could. There had been bloodshed: both Tecuman’s people and his sister’s. Armed men had infiltrated his chambers and there had been fighting. The details after that were murky. There was no body- yet- and that Asmander was holding on to. Maine was missing too. It’s not like Asmander could blame her if she fled after all that had happened- but he would.

They’d spent so much time up in the Kasra’s room, joking and mocking Asman- amongst other things. Asmander would give anything to have him back. Everytime he thought his head had stopped racing, new memories came to mind and the soreness in his chest returned vengefully. He pressed a palm to his aching head. If Tecuman  _ was  _ dead he wanted to know already- he hated the limbo of half-grieving. It felt no matter what he did it could be wrong, unproductive.

There were footsteps and a figure at the open doors: Shyri. Asmander waved his hand and the guards let her through.

“So, you’ve got a plan?”

Asmander felt heat rise within him, flipping around to her to find her arms crossed and her incessant smirk.

“This is your friend’s room isnt it? Tecumander?”

“ _ Tecuman _ .” He narrowed his eyes but found he had little energy for her games, something twisted within him,  _ ‘your friend’ _ , “My friend, yes.” For a moment Shyri’s smile faltered and he thought she might for once say something without bitterness, instead her smile widened and she turned to exaggeratedly glance over the room. Asmander expected some annoyed flame within him- as always, and certainly under such circumstances- but found nothing.

“So what then?” She paused as her gazed past blood on the floor, “He’s…”

“Gone.”

“Gone… _ beyond _ ?”

“Gone.” Asmander said unhelpfully. He crossed his arms, pulling his legs tighter to his chest.

“And what of the Wolf girl, Maniye Many Feet or whatever she calls herself?”

“Gone.” A bit of spark returned to his words and he turned to face the Laughing girl. She pulled out a stool and sat. He told her all he knew then they searched for more answers, only to find the same confusing contradictions and pulls within tales of the details.

Finally, Spear Catcher spoke some sense. He told them of Maniyes howl of danger and of finding Maniye fighting the southerners. Then, she fled with Tecuman.

Asmander felt he might melt into the earth from relief. He was ok- at least from the night’s assassins. 

Shyri split off to speak with another Northerner while Asmander found Hesprec. He sat beside the girl; it had seemed so recently the Priest- or Priest _ ess _ \- had been the old man, yet now her eyes were bright and her features young in her new body. He wondered how many lives the Snake had gone through, how much wisdom and knowledge she and all the Priests held. It felt unthinkable they still couldn’t give word on the true Kasra. The Priestess had been rather unhelpful before, but Asmander hoped with her friend in danger she would give better aid.

“Have you come for my voice on Tecuman’s behalf?” the Serpent girl asked; Asmander shook his head.

“No fish in those waters, I know. But the Wolf Champion is your friend.”

“So not for him but for her? I must be moved by that, hmm?”

“I…” Asmander bit back multiple comments. 

“The Serpent is working himself into knots,” Hesprec sighed, “and we must assume there is a purpose in the pattern his body writes, but we can only see a hands span of his coils. And even now we are drifting further from one another. Far enough that some voices are not even here for me to hear.”

Asmander frowned, a prickle of half-guilt and half-frustration rising through him, “I am sorry, there are greater matters than...”

“You fear for your friend.”

“Yes.”

“I do know your care of him,” Hesprec said. Asmander hoped she meant the same care as such between her and Maniye, but when a small smirk rose to the priestess’s lips he knew she knew better, “The Serpent knows many things,” she said, but seeing his tension flicked her hand sympathetically, “the Serpent also does not care for judgement on such grounds.” Asmander let himsef calm- a little bit. “I do hope too the Kasra is alright, and your thoughts of Many Tracks with him?”

Asmander opened his mouth but found no words for a few seconds as he thought, “I trust her,” He said decidedly, “She will protect him if she can.” Hesprec nodded slowly.

“I hear the Crow has been and gone more than once, since this all happened.”

“The…” Asmander searched his head, “The Eyrieman? The man with the bird soul?”

“Did your time in the north teach you nothing? Yes. Who knows what his eyes have seen.” The girl watched the debate across the space as if their own conversation was of little importance. Asmander rose quietly and she turned to smile at him.

“Tell Maniye that i have spoken to the Serpent on her behalf, to help her find her way.”

“And Tecuman?”

Hesprec’s expression did not change though she looked sympathetic, “No fish in those waters, remember. Go cast your nets in the estuary.”

»»————- ————-««

Shyri found Asmander shortly through his pacing at the estuary.  As always she looked amused at all of his concerns, uninterestedly glancing around the cluttered morass.

“What?”

“Your father is looking for you.”

Asmander snorted, his father could wait, “I have no doubt of it, are you his dog now?”

“Perhaps I am yours since I bark to warn you. What’s the plan, Longmouth?”

“I go and find Tecuman, wherever he’s gone.”

“If he’s with the Wolf girl?”

“All the better.”

“If he’s in chains on his sister’s boat?”

Asmander hated the thought but-

“Even then.”

“If he’s dead?” For once, Shyri wasn’t smiling. Asmander gave a brittle grin.

“Then I’ve failed as Champion and I will probably do something rash.”

“Do something rash anyway, he’s not dead.” A new voice said. Asmander flipped around to find a scrawny man perched on the gap of a window. The Crow cocked his head. “I’m not supposed to talk to you.” 

Asmander found he had grasped his flint knife when he turned and lowered it quickly, not wanting to scare the bird away.

“Many Tracks said she thought you were dead and Kalameshli can’t mean I can’t talk to a dead man can’t I? So it would not count if I told you that I had seen Many Tracks in the estuary and they were heading away to avoid the hunters, and that she had the River Lord youth with her- barely knows how to Step when he’s swimming.” Asmander stifled a smile at the thought. Poor Tecuman was probably very out of his element, but he was  _ safe _ ! His joy faded as he remembered that safety was only temporary and that naiveness only meant danger. He felt sick at the thought and crossed his arms as the crow babbled on. “I couldn’t be wrong talking to a dead man, could I?”

“Take me to them,” Asmander demanded.

“I cannot. Takes Iron said. I don’t want him as an enemy?”

Asmander was tired.

“Would you rather  _ me _ ? You’re not even a Wolf!”

“I may be a fool but I know not to make Kalameshli an enemy.” the bird picked at his clothes anxiously, “Listen. If you want to travel south you will find a hovel on stilts. It belongs to a witch, Mata Embe of the Milk Tear- or whatever you call them. From there they headed deeper south. Takes Iron can’t think its wrong to talk to a dead man, surely.” He was a bird again, and with a few flaps of his wings he cast himself into the sky and away. 

“It seems I have a better plan,” Asmander announced to Shyri. 

“Let’s go then.”

“No.”

“Seriously? You’re going to-”

“You can’t keep up with me, not through the channels of the estuary. I need you here.” The Laughing girl did not look convinced, frowning.

“So now you need me.”

“Because I can trust you.”

She erupted into laughter, “You trust a child of the Laughing Men, Longmouth?” His expression didn’t waver and her snickers faded.

“I do, yes. You are from far away and you are not one of us _. _ You I know aren’t in the pay of someone else”

“Well need me for what?”

“Something is wrong here.” Asmanders voice was low and Shyri moved closer to better hear, “Something is rotten. I can feel it. The priests fighting one another, or…”

“You want me to uncover the secrets of the Serpent?” She snorted.

“Keep your eyes open. Tecuman needs me but this place needs somewhere to watch and listen. And I have no one better, so it will have to be you.” Shyri stared at him for a moment as if trying to understand his intentions.

“You are sick with loyalty,” she said at last, flicking her hand, “and you think I have the same disease.” Asmander smiled and sighed- more from exhaustion than amusement. 

“Even so, remember I trust you.”

Shyri wore a new expression, one Asmander couldn’t place. He thought it might be fear.

“Go carefully, Longmouth.”

“Alas, I feel we’re beyond that.”

**Author's Note:**

> This isn't very good but whatever, I did what I set out to do. I may do more but probably not. Also I am so sorry about the grammar and spelling! just ignore it lol


End file.
